


Meet You There

by magicspills



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Baz is just a lovable dork, Lucy is alive!!, M/M, Simon is just a lost soul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 14:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15221306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicspills/pseuds/magicspills
Summary: Simon is lost. He's a couple thousand miles away from his mum and he seems to be in a hole far too big for him to climb out of. One night that all changes when he meets a young, charming man who wants nothing more than to keep him company in a lonely convenience store.





	Meet You There

**Author's Note:**

> This is unedited and rushed but I was feeling inspired!

I was sitting at the pavement while playing with the empty bottle of beer I had just chugged down a while ago. Five empty bottles sat at my feet, my throat feels dry and the world is so quiet. I looked at the empty street and laughed, as if there's humor in being alone at a time like this. 

How weak can I be? Why was I drinking my liver to death for a breakup? I should have known she wasn't the one. She was always for adventure, she wanted to get away from the humdrum days that chained us. She wanted to experience and see everything outside of the pathetic town we lived in. 

And she did. I never saw her again. Some days I remember her gold hair flowing in the breeze as she walked to her car with her bags in hand. She didn't even cry. Not once. 

And she never looked back. Not once. 

I scoffed at the thought and clutched the glass bottle in my hand so hard I felt like it was going break. I felt myself on the verge tears and without any second thought, I threw the bottle on the ground, glass shards surrounding me. 

I looked at the starless sky and sighed. Damn this place. I had a chance to leave when my mum asked me to come back with her to London. But I turned down the opportunity because at the time, I was still with Agatha. I wanted to be by her side for as long as I can. Few months later, she was gone. Such a waste of time and opportunity. 

I dug around in the pocket of my jeans and pulled out my phone. It had been about a month since I last heard from my mum. I missed hearing her stories about the people she's met, and her days spent wandering the streets, and shopping in small boutiques—she's always had a thing for antiques. She loves finding the value in items deemed worthless—I didn't hesitate in punching her number in and waiting for her to pick up. She's probably distracted, because it takes her five rings before she answers and I can already hear her smile through the device pressed against my ear. 

“Are my ears deceiving me or is my son finally calling me?” She jokes, there's no hostility to her voice, it's all heartfelt and I can tell she's smiling to herself. I'm thankful for that, I've missed my mum. It's always been her and me, I never knew my dad and I don't want to know him. He left my mom a few weeks after she gave birth me. 

“Mom,” I start off slowly, I feel like I'm going to burst into tears at any moment. “I'm sorry. My mind; it hasn't been in the right place. I'm sorry for ignoring you.” I'm stumbling over my words, and my throat feels tight. 

I feel horrible for ignoring my mum's texts and calls. I feel guilty for choosing a girl over her; my own mother. We're all each other's got. It's always been her and me, and now we're spending our lives apart. I would have to be the worst son in the history of sons. 

“It's okay, darling,” she interjects. “Apology accepted. You're only 22 once, right? You're allowed to grow, now, how's school?” She's talking quickly, she must be excited. That's my mum for you. Even when I saw it in her eyes that she was hurt when I chose to stay, she could forgive me just as easily. 

Now that I realize it, my drunk self subconscious is screaming at me to go to London right now and hug her. I was taking her for granted. 

“School's been good, but that's not why I called you,” I trail off, I'm picking at the frayed ends of my jeans. “I don't really know how to say this.” I clear my throat, trying to find the words. 

“It's okay, rosebud.” My mum says, I always love it when she calls me that. It only makes it this much harder to speak up. 

The line went silent for a minute before she finally speaks up. 

“Do you want me to come back home?”

I don't reply right away. Did I want her to? I want to be with my mum, but I don't want her drop everything she's accomplished in London for her capricious son. That would be selfish of me. 

“No, mum, that's not what I want,” I say finally. “I want to go there. With you. The way it's supposed to be.” 

She didn't say anything. And she didn't have to. I know what she is thinking; she wants this as much as I do. She wants me to come home with her. Mum starts asking if that's what I really want, and the answer is always the same: yes. I will always say yes. I assured that this is what I want. I want my mum back. 

My head is still buzzing when she asks me to take care of my school papers so I could transfer in London. She gathers up a list of that needs to be sorted out and with every second spent planning, I feel myself getting more and more excited to hop on a plane and be with her. She is still gushing with happiness when we say goodbye and honestly, after the call, I feel like I'm filled with so much power, despite of my intoxication. I should probably hit the 24/7 convenience store around the corner to sober up. 

I'm sitting at one of the tables inside the store, sipping my coffee idly. I have my headphones in, listening to my music and I begin my life in London and what it would be like. I block out negative aspects of my life and focus on the good part; I'm going to finally see my mum, I'm going to start a new life in London. I close my eyes, and begin to daydream about all the wonderful things that will happen the minute I step off the plane and into my mum's arms. 

I don’t know how long I was in the store, with my eyes closed, daydreaming. I had lost all senses, I didn’t even realize that someone else had walked into the store until they tapped me on the shoulder. I opened my eyes and saw a tall, dark stranger staring at me curiously. I pulled out my headphones and looked at him with a questioning look.

“Don’t mind me,” he says, and raised his hands defensively. “Although I can’t help but wonder why you’re alone in this convenience store at two in the morning.” 

I stared at him for a good two minutes, baffled by this boy, this stranger, I wonder what’s his deal. I shrugged and looked away from his gaze.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“One of those nights, I guess,” he says. I didn’t expect him to sit down across from me, he smirked and pulled out a pack of gum, shoving a piece into his mouth. “But by looks of it, I could easily protect myself. You on the other hand … Not so much.” He smirks again.

“I’ll have you know that I am just as fit as you,” I scoff, and smile at him. I wonder what type of guy would be out at two in the morning just for the hell of it. Come to think of it, why am I here? I let out a small laugh, and shake my head. A little company wouldn’t kill.

“You seem a bit off,” he says, and studies me. He leans forward across the table and stares at me, and then I see it; a glint playing in his eyes grey eyes. He leans back into his seat and smiles. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?” 

“Maybe I am,” I say and take a long sip from my coffee. It’s beginning to get cold. “Maybe I’m not.”

“Why are you drinking?” He pushing, and maybe it’s in poor judgement, but I tell him everything that has been going on—from my ex-girlfriend running away, to realizing how lost I am without my mum, and how I just made the decision to fly to London and be with her—I tell him everything and he just sits there, listening and he doesn’t interrupt once.

“I think going to London is a good, healthy idea,” he says, and throws me another smile, this smile is not like the others, it’s more soft. “She’s family, and if I had the chance to be with my own mother; I’d jump on the idea with no hesitation.”

It turned out his mom passed away when he was young, he said he would give anything to see her once last time. He staring off into space, it looks like he hasn't quite gotten over his mother's passing, it’s understandable; losing a loved one, especially your mother, is tough. I reached across and rested my hand over his, his whole body tensed and it felt like he was going to pull his hands away but he didn't. He loosened up and we sat there in a calming silence, with my hand holding his in comfort. 

When the sun finally peeked through at break of dawn, we said goodbye and parted ways. I made my way back to my lonely, and quiet apartment. Somehow I couldn't manage to fall asleep, instead I spent my day reading over the e-mail of things to do in preparation of my moving to London. It took half a day to finish my school transfers. 

Eight hours later, after I had all my school papers signed, I was tired, but not tired enough to drive down to the convenience store from last night. In the back of my mind, there was a voice telling me I should go in hopes I see the stranger from last night. I entered the store and bought myself a variety of chocolate and sat down at the same table. I think I want to see him again.

“You’re going to get diabetes with those.” A voice pipes up, I turn around and see him standing there, smiling. I shrug and hold my hand out.

“I know. Want some?” I ask.

He stands there for a moment, thinking before he finally gives in and sits across from me and takes the chocolate. He gives it a bite and looks at me with a smirk.

“You’ll also have to share some insulin with me too.” He jokes and finishes the chocolate. I laugh. And offer him some more, and he gladly takes it.

And that is the start of our late night bondings at the same convenience store at the same table, sharing chocolate and stories. His name is Baz, it’s short for something, but no matter how many times I pester for him to tell me, he says the same thing;

“Maybe one day. If you’re lucky.”

Baz goes to school and when he’s not busy studying politics, he’s helping his dad run a magazine company as an editor’s assistant. I find that interesting, and when I asked him questions about his job and what provoked him to get in politics, he answers with such detailed explanations that it’s hard to focus on what he’s saying because the way he speaks is so full of life and excitement that it’s mesmerizing.

We spent so many nights talking, and getting to each other that it’s hard to imagine that we were strangers not too long ago. Baz is like no one I’ve ever met before; he’s different. The way he talks is like he’s been around for a long time, he doesn’t sugarcoat anything which often leads to us getting into an argument, but it never lasts. We’ll take a deep breath and stare at each other before we end up laughing and smiling, wondering why we were arguing in the first place. For once I felt like someone important, because Baz made me feel important.

“Your opinions hold value, Simon,” he would say with a smirk, “don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Even if they are a handsome bloke such as myself.”

Everything just flowed perfectly. But I knew I needed to put a fine line between us. I just got out of a relationship, and in three months, I would be flying to London. I could indulge in friendship with him, but the forbidden should remain hidden and buried deep down. Because deep down, there were feelings towards him, some that I couldn’t even put into words but I knew what it meant. I never questioned my sexuality, but I knew I had feelings for Baz, they lingered even when I tried to push them away. I couldn’t fall for him. It was too soon, and I just couldn’t.

We're parked near a cliff, overlooking the ocean. He suggested we go somewhere other than the quiet convenience store we seemed to make ours. But Baz wanted to show me something other than the walls of the store; the sunrise. So we got in his black camaro and took off for the beach, enjoying the comfortable silence between us with faint noise of the radio playing in the background. It was exactly what I needed. 

Baz is looking at the rising sun, and I'm staring at him. I look at his perfectly shaped eyebrows, his long eyelashes, his deep grey eyes that mirrored the contents of his soul. His high bridged nose and his natural pink lips that always curved into a smirk. I shouldn't be thinking about him like this, but I do, with his gold tanned skin, and perfect black hair that curl around his sharp jawline. He's perfect. 

“Why are you staring at me like that?” He asks without even looking at me. He's smiling, and I smile too. I'm digging myself an even deeper hole and I should fill it before I get too deep that I can't get out.  
“I’m just admiring,” I say with a shrug. “Is that a crime?” I turn my attention back to the rising sun.

“You think too highly of me, Snow,” He says, and I feel him smile. “It’s a little unnerving.”

Baz has had a dark past. He was always going place to place, trying to escape his past that was filled with bloody fists and alcohol and nightmares. He was always getting into trouble, and it wasn’t until he turned nineteen that he finally turned his life around because he was arrested for a DUI. Baz says he was a disaster. He was scared and his views in life changed immediately. 

It took two years before he finally turned his life around. He spent more time reading, and he went back to school. He spent more time fixing his health. He made sure to make his family feel loved. Baz says he’s never felt more alive.

“Simon,” Baz says my name softly and I feel my stomach flutter. I was swimming in the danger zone. I didn’t want any complications. I turned my gaze at him and smiled. He tucked an unruly curl of bronze behind my ear and smiled. He touched my cheek, and I can feel my heart beating fast. The heat and the little bolts of electricity from his touch lingered on my skin. I’m wishing for him to say what my selfish side wanted to hear, but I’m scared. After this, then what?

The waves of the ocean crashing against the rock of the cliff filled the silence between us. I could feel the fresh warmth of the sun against my skin. Baz didn’t say anything, and the calmness was freaking me out.

“I love, Simon.” He said, softly and smiled a more calm, smile. I held my breath. The calmness of the storm had passed. It’s rage was coming. I didn’t hold my breath because I was scared, I held my breath because I loved him too.

—

After his confession, I dodged his calls. I never let him see me, but I was lurking around the convenience store every night. He looked so sad, and so … lost. He was heartbroken. And that’s because I was a coward.

I flew back to London without saying goodbye. I was a heartbreaker and I couldn’t shake off the gnawing feeling inside my chest. I set my foot on London, and the regret of not talking to Baz set in. I missed him.

I live with my mum. My new school was different, but I found myself adapting slowly. My mum and I had more time to wander around. She owns her own bakery, and it seemed to have gotten really popular over time. So occasionally I would help out. I made a few friends, but something was missing. He was missing.

Six months later, my mum brought me into work with her. Her bakery was getting an article in a magazine and someone was dropping by to give her an interview and take pictures. I loved my mum’s baking, and she was a natural, so there was no doubt she would get recognized for her skill.

“I want to take a photo with you,” my mum said brightly, “which is why I asked you to come along.” I smiled at her and agreed. While she was fretting around the bakery, getting everything ready for the interviewer and cameraman. 

“Mum, how long will your meeting—” my question was cut short when two people walked in; a woman with a blonde bob and a male with ink black hair and gold skin. I was frozen in place as they smiled and greeted themselves to my mum, shaking her hand and complimenting how nice the bakery is. They looked at me and he smiled as our shared gaze crossed. My stomach started to fly high and I felt everything grow cold. But looking at him, in broad daylight, I felt warm. My heart was in an upbeat rhythm and I was at a loss for words.

“Simon, this is Rosita and Basilton,” my mum introduced me to them, so that’s his real name… “This is my son, Simon.” Rosita smiled at me and shook my hand. When I turned to Baz, Rosita said Baz was helping his father at his magazine company in London for five months now. That meant Baz was here a month after I arrived here.

“It’s been awhile.” Baz says and held out his hand. I glanced at my mum, and she was smiling like she knew (she probably does) the tension is getting strong. I shake his hand and Baz holds it tightly before letting go.

Baz asked my mum questions about her bakery and why she chose this path. She said that after my dad left, she buried herself in baking, it seemed to take away the pain and it helped her get her life back on track. She said she chose the name “Rosebud’s Bakery,” after me because that’s who I am to her. Her rosebud boy. Baz looked at me when she said that, and I felt my cheeks flush red.

After the interview, Rosita took a couple pictures inside the bakery, she took a photo of my mum and I standing near a vase of roses. Afterwards she and mum walked out of the bakery to take some photos outside, leaving Baz and I alone.

“Why are you here?” I asked, turning my attention to Baz, who never stopped staring at me. He smiled and stood from his seat. He walked towards me and held my hands. The non-existent space between us is suffocating. Baz held my chin so I would look at him. It’s getting harder to breathe.

It’s always harder breathing next to him.

“I missed you.” He whispered as he touched my cheek. I close my eyes at the warmth of his touch. A content sigh leaves my lips. His hot breath was fanning across my face. He was too close but I couldn’t move to avoid him.

His lips crashed into mine, and I sucked in my breath. I was scared to kiss him back. What if this is all a figment of my imagination? This might not even be Baz who I was kissing. But it feels nice, and if there’s a possibility that this is all real, I let myself enjoy it. It’s not a long kiss, but the feeling still lingered. I was afraid to open my eyes. After this, what could happen? I left him. I broke his heart.

“Open your eyes, Snow.” He whispers against my ear, and I do what he asks. He’s smiling and it looks like he’s glowing. He’s happy, that’s all I could tell. Did he really go this far for me? The thought sank in my mind. He probably did.

“I’m sorry.” My voice was hoarse and I could feel myself on the verge of tears. There are no words to describe this feeling pooling in the pit of my stomach. I had him. This is what I wanted all along.

“A bucket of your cowardice will always drown in my sea of courage, Simon,” Baz smirks and kisses my forehead. “I love you, Snow.” He smiles with a genuine smile before wrapping his arms around me. I smile in content, and breath in his familiar smell. Having him with me is the best feeling I could possibly have. Everything is falling into place. I found my path at last.


End file.
